A Dark Night
by Sherlock River Hekate
Summary: It's in the dark quiet hours of the night that John Reese's past tries to catch up with him.


John Reese's eyes snapped open into the gloom of the room. His heart was racing, beating too fast against his chest. Even though nothing was obstructing his airways, the ex-agent couldn't get enough oxygen. It felt like there was something in his chest and it was clawing its way up his throat. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Reese felt the tightness in his chest loosen just a little bit, enough to not pass out at least. He couldn't quite remember what had caused this particular nightmare, just a vague memory of faces and voices. There had been enough people, those he had hunted with the CIA and the people he came across during the numbers, that he wasn't even sure whose faces he saw.

The loft was empty, and every step Reese took towards the kitchen echoed, even with his careful tread. Now that he was out of bed, the breeze was cooling the sweat on his skin. He was still feeling a little shaky, like he was made out of jelly, and empty. The quiet apartment, with very little noise from the sleepless city outside, wasn't doing anything to comfort Reese. From past experience he knew that lying in bed staring at the blank ceiling would do even less for his mental state, the faces from his dreams would just swim in the gloom and make getting back to sleep near on impossible. He stood in the shadowy kitchen and took a long drink of water, the feeling of the liquid running down his throat waking him up a bit more and assisting in pushing the thoughts back. He ran a hand over his face, knowing he should return to bed and at least try getting some more sleep. Finch would expect him to be at his best when he turns up at the library. Even though they had just dealt with one number, it was likely they would get another one during the course of the day. Falling asleep while doing surveillance, or not being fast enough to help their number, just wasn't an option. Back to bed it was.

 _Finch._ Reese wondered what the other man was doing at this time of the night. Looking at the small clock on the bedside, he noted that it only read 1.05 in the morning. 'He should be sleeping. Just like I should', Reese thought. More than likely, the older man was still awake and working at his computer in the Library. The ex-agent sat on the side of the bed, and on a whim he grabbed is earpiece and slipped it in. Settling himself more comfortably in bed, he tapped the ear piece on.  
"Hi Finch," he said softly, not sure if the computer genius had his ear piece in, or if he was asleep.  
"Mr Reese," came the reply, voice slightly scratchy from the period of disuse, "Is there a problem? Are you alright?"  
Reese paused for a moment, thinking how best to answer the questions.  
"No, no problem" He replied. "I was just checking in to make sure you were safe."  
Finch hummed in reply, the sound of typing clicking away in the background. After a moment, Finch replied.  
"You didn't answer my question Mr. Reese."  
Lying in bed, Reese held back a sigh. There was no way around the question now.  
"I am better now, thanks Finch," He decided on in the end. "What are you doing?"  
They both knew he was deflecting but neither commented on it. As much as Finch was a very private person, so was Reese.  
"I was just finishing some coding, a small project that one of my covers was assigned," Finch replied, the sounds of typing slowing now.  
"At this time of the night?" the tone was teasing, but Reese wasn't keen to reach the Library tomorrow only to find the other man asleep on his keyboard again.  
"I have just finished up," Finch replied, "I was about to close down the Library when you turned on your earpiece."  
Reese nodded absently, making a noise when he remembered that Finch couldn't see him.  
"So where are you going then?" He thought he would try to get a little bit of information.  
There was a dry chuckle on the other end of the comm link.  
"Nice try Mr Reese," Finch replied, "I am going to one of my apartments."  
He knew that was all that he would get out of the billionaire. Harold Finch was a man of his word, and he wouldn't tell Reese any more information than he was willing to share. For both of them, this was probably safest.

They stopped conversing as Finch took a car service to his apartment. There were no defining sounds that Reese could use to identify where Finch was headed. Instead, he let the sounds of the car, and Finch's soft breathing lull him into a relaxed, sleepy state. Reese was actually half asleep when he heard the click of a front door opening and then closing softly. Neither said a word as Finch went about his nightly routine. Without realising it, Reese slipped into sleep, his earpiece still in and switched on.

On the other end of the comm link, Finch heard Reese's breathing slow and become deeper as he fell asleep. The billionaire smiled softly, knowing that his asset and the closest thing he had to a friend, would sleep well now.  
"Good night John," He whispered, tapping the earpiece off but not removing it.


End file.
